a fic for oddsbobs
Dec. 21st, 2006 11:13 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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small_giftsTitle: Strangers When We Meet
Author/Artist: nurturing_roads
Written for: oddsbobs
Rating: PG-13 (for a wee bit of language)
Summary and/or Prompt: First Christmas after PoA, dancing by the tree, a Christmas miracle
Any other random notes, warnings, etc.:
Happy Christmas!
Strangers When We Meet
A distant carillion woke Remus from a dream of flying.
"Morning," he murmured, stretching languidly and rolling over to stare at the cot beside the bed.
"Happy Christ--" The words died in his throat.
The cot was empty. For a moment, Remus could only lie blinking at the pile of green blankets tossed on the floor beside it.
"Not again," he growled, throwing off his own blankets and padding barefoot out into the hall.
Two minutes later, he returned, his expression thunderous, and began gathering up the bedding.
Sirius was gone.
~~*~~
"Haven't heard a thing, Lupin."
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
"Nah--I've seen you angry. 'S more than my life's worth to be on your bad side."
"All right. But if you hear anything--"
"I'll keep my nose to the ground and my hand to the floo powder."
"Thanks."
"Not at all. He'll be back around. He always shows up in the end, doesn't he?"
"I know. That's not what worries me."
"Now don't think like that. He's a tough bird to kill, eh?"
"You're right."
"Course I am. Happy Christmas, Lupin."
"Happy Christmas."
As the flames died, Remus crossed the last name off his list and stared bleakly at the noon day sky through the window.
Six months out of Azkaban and this was the third time Sirius had scarpered without a word. Despite all of Dumbledore's reassuring letters, Remus was starting to take it personally. He'd thought this time was different: Sirius had been ensconced in Remus' flat in Denmark for nearly four weeks already. If nothing else, it was a far cry from the extended weekend he'd barely managed when Remus was spending the summer in Germany.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Remus muttered to himself, and grabbed his traveling cloak from the peg on the wall.
~~*~~
The streets were cold and almost entirely devoid of life. Anyone sensible was snug beside a fire, unwrapping gifts and sharing the cup of human kindness with their nearest and dearest.
Remus pulled his frayed collar up higher around his ears and kept walking. He should have read the signs. He should have known better.
The previous night, bone tired from a week in the wild, still nauseous from the trip from Romania, Remus had dragged himself into the sitting room, grateful for the fire roaring in the grate and the tea service waiting on the table. He had been even more grateful for the sight of Sirius' shaggy head leaned back against the top of the wing chair and the sound of his light snoring. Remus had reached out and ruffled Sirius' hair. Sirius, startled, had leapt to his feet and whirled around, wand drawn. Remus, smiling, had held up his hands in surrender.
"You got me."
"You're lucky. What time is it?"
"After midnight."
"You'd said ten at the latest."
"The day went south after we talked." He had slumped in one of the wing chairs and begun pouring himself a cup. Sirius had nodded, pocketing his wand, and resumed his own seat.
Shrugging off his sweater, Remus had felt the sudden chill.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” he'd asked, leaning towards the fire.
“Had the window open all day.”
“What? It’s brutal out there!”
“Buckbeak likes the fresh air.”
“Maybe, but *you’ll* catch your death,” Remus had chided, wrapping his hands around the tea cup.
“Then it’ll be Happy fucking Christmas, Mr. Minister, won’t it?” Sirius had sneered.
“Excuse me?”
“Shrink me down, wrap me up, and floo me to his missus to put under their tree. “Yours Graciously, Albus Purcival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”
“Sirius, stop being melodramatic.”
"Why? I'm bored. I've been bored for five straight days. Nothing to do but read your books or stare out your windows or drink myself into a semi-stupor. It's dull as ditchwater here when you go off on one of your little adventures."
"Believe me, I could do without them. This last one especially." He had raised his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped around his midsection.
"Fuck," Sirius had hissed, flinching. "Why do you keep going back?"
"You know I don't have any choice."
"Yeah, yeah. The old man crooks his finger and his lapdog comes running."
"I already told him that I'm not going anywhere tomorrow. Not unless it's--"
"Life-threatening. Yeah. You said."
"Please, Padfoot, don't let's argue. I'm here now, aren't I?"
"So you are. Should I send him a card, then? 'Dearest Dumbledore, Thanks for letting me have my Moony back for a whole bloody day. If he wasn't so fagged from having to trot all over the bloody continent doing your bidding, we might have had a roaring good time. Ever yours, etc?'"
“Padfoot, I'm fine. And we will have a good time. Just give me an hour to warm up properly."
"You know, you wouldn't be nearly this tired if I could travel with you. If the old man didn't have me chained here as though I was still twelve and hadn't been taking care of myself all this time."
"Lay off, will you? 'Tis the season to--”
“'Tis the season to realize that when it comes down to brass tacks there’s no difference between yesterday and tomorrow anymore."
"Oh gods," Remus muttered. Sirius ignored him.
"'Tis the season to admit that it’s just one interminable, dreary expanse of confinement for us all while we wait for the other shoe to fall. Moony, I beg you, in the name of this most joyous of seasons, pass me the tea but hold the platitudes.”
Remus had let the silence fall around them then and had stared placidly at the fire, counting backwards from ten.
“Any sign of snow?”
“No, just rain, rain, rain until we all wash away.”
~~*~~
Remus blew on his hands and stared up at the grey expanse of sky. No unexpected Buckbeak-shaped shadows. Why would there be, though? It might have been hours since Sirius took off. Given sufficient tailwind, he could easily be crossing the Russian border.
"I should let them have you," Remus muttered bitterly. He kicked a stone on the riverbank, sending it splashing beneath the grey water. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, and bowing his head against a wind that had sprung up, he walked a little faster.
He should have realized. He should have guessed that their nightly arguement had taken on new dimensions as soon as he had mentioned the snow.
He had finally begun to get feeling back in his toes again when the benign question escaped his lips: “I wonder if we’ll have snow for Christmas?" Stupid.
“Guaranteed rain,” Sirius had grimaced, sinking lower in his seat. Remus had thought that the end, until Sirius turned, the light suddenly returning to his eyes.
"I’ll bet Hogwarts is bloody covered in the stuff, though,” he had grinned. Remus had steeled himself for the inevitable monologue.
“Let’s take a trip, eh? Buckbeak can carry two, no problem. You look like you’ve lost at least a stone since last spring anyway--we'll have to remedy that.”
“Sirius, stop…”
“I’m not saying we go anywhere near the school grounds. We could camp out--put down stakes just north of Hogsmeade. Nothing fancy--just the comforts of home. You’re still good at disillusioning aren’t you? They made you learn that to be an Auror, right? Keeping one small tent shut of prying eyes wouldn't be hard for you, would it?”
“Sirius, I don't…”
“Or fuck the magic--pull up to one of the Muggle cities and stay there for a fortnight. Go see some shows. Stay out until dawn. Live like natives. Harry could help--they’ve got him locked up there for the tournament, but he’d sneak out to see us. I know he would. It’d be bloody brilliant--almost like old times.”
“Padfoot, you *know* we-“
With a sudden, whiplike movement, Sirius had flung the teapcup across the room. Remus had bit his tongue as the delicate blue china had shattered against the far wall. Gripping the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled vice, Sirius had spoken with a voice like Arctic winter.
“Yes, I *know*. Of course, I *know*. How could I bloody well NOT *know* with Dumbledore sending owls every other day to make sure I’m still here to read them? 'My Dear Boy, I hope you're bearing up under the strain. It's only for a bit longer.' 'My Dear Boy, Do be sure to tell Remus to contact me when he gets back.' 'My Dear Boy, have you hung yourself yet?'"
"Don't be maudlin."
"It's the truth, isn't it?"
"We've been through this, Padfoot. He wants to protect you.”
"I can take care of myself. And you, too, if it comes to it." He had risen from his chair then and had begun pacing the floor before the window. "Merlin, I miss the snow. All this rain--it’s just as grey as Azkaban out there. Why can’t we go somewhere? Anywhere! He'd never know."
“I'm not good at lying, Padfoot--you know that."
"Then don't say a word--just come with me."
"What's gotten into you?"
“Am I even here, Moony? Am I even real? I feel like a ghost, like a straw man, like I could just blow away with one fair gust of wind.”
“I’m here, you're here. And it’ll only be a little longer before Dumbledore finds a new place for the Order, and then Harry and the rest of the Order will be with us, too.”
“Really? You mean tucked away? Hidden away? Locked away? Forgotten? I'm no better here than in any other prison. Hell, it's not even a nicer set of drapes.” Sirius had yanked one of the tatty taupe curtains, and they had watched it fall to the floor in a heap. “Why did I agree to stay?”
“You’d rather be on the run?”
“Maybe. I know I’d rather be outside. Someplace where I could feel awake again. Someplace where it's bloody snowing!" He had screamed the last sentence through the glass at the unhearing sky.
Remus had approached him slowly then and laid a hand on a shoulder quivering with rage.
“It’s just for a little longer.”
“How much longer, Remus? Has he said? Does he know? Or is it just, ‘Hang on, Sirius, my lad, and once it’s all sorted we’ll let you out again. Until then, you be a good, good dog, eh? You run and hide where we tell you to run and hide?”
“Sirius, it can’t be helped.”
“Oh, of course not. Such is life and all that," Sirius had shrugged his hand off, "Fat lot you care--you can leave whenever you want.”
"I don't *want* to leave at all. And I always come back."
"Yeah, sure. You always come back until one day--" Sirius had poked him sharply in the ribs, causing a bolt of white-hot pain to explode in Remus' side.
"Until one day, you don't." His face steely, Sirius had turned to stare out the western window, and silence had blanketed the room.
Remus had left him there, then, and gone to the bedroom to change his bandages and calm the anger boiling up inside him. He intended to wait up, but he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. If Sirius came to sleep at all, Remus didn't hear him.
~~*~~
Remus tucked himself into the doorway of a cafe and tried to think. It was like playing hide-and-seek.
"Where would you go," he asked the air.
He laughed bitterly as he realized that he had absolutely no idea how to answer the question. It was Sirius. Sirius would go anywhere. Anywhere snowy at least. Which narrowed the field to about half of Europe and most of North Asia.
"He's finally gotten angry enough. He's not coming back," a niggling voice hissed in the back of his mind.
Remus cursed quietly, wrapped his arms around his chest and turned back towards the flat.
~~*~~
The afternoon light waned and slid into evening. The first stars unveiled themselves, and the moon crept over the horizon. In the streets below, crowds of people were spilling out of houses to bring little lights to the river. Remus sat in the darkened flat, staring blindly into the fire, running the fingers of his right hand along the edge of a small red box.
"Bloody Hell," he muttered viciously, and tucking the box into his pocket, he stormed out the door. Out in the street, the people swarmed around him, bright autumn leaves on the wind, calling to each other, carrying their little candle boats. A woman in a brilliant blue cloak stumbled into him, caught him by the shoulders, hugged him like an old friend, and pressed a candle boat into his empty hand before being whisked back into the crush of strangers. Stunned, Remus stumbled forward to the edge of the river. On either side of him, people were sending their paper boats to the growing flotilla of light that was drifting downstream.
Slowly, Remus pulled the box from his pocket and glanced from it's bright red wrapping to the deep black depths. What was the point, after all? He'd been trying for so long to gather Sirius back, and he could see no progress at all. What did he really expect this little box to do?
Crouching down, he was surrounded by the whispering of prayers and devotions, a sussurance of desire that felt tangible in the light of a thousand sacrificial flames. A man in green crouching beside him held out his own candle to Remus.
"A little light, mate?" Remus nodded, and the man carefully lit Remus' own candle.
"Happy Christmas," the man added, slipping his candle into the river and retreating down the bank to a crush of people singing.
Remus stared at the flame in front of him. "A little light." He remembered the charm his mother cast on the candles at night when his father was away:
"A little light, a simple spark/To lead us home, from deepest dark."
Leaning forward, Remus placed the boat carefully, and watched it hurry to catch up with its brothers.
"Come back to me," he murmured, "Please come back to me." The flame flickered in a passing breeze, but did not go out.
He looked down at the package in his hand.
"Drown it," a little voice hissed. "No other use for it." Sighing, he shoved it back into his pocket and rose to his feet. He had hope. It wasn't much, in the scheme of things, but it was his. Turning on his heel, he pressed back into the crowd, forcing his way back to the flat. He'd owl Dumbledore. Dumbledore would know what to do next.
"Oy! Mister Moon!" Remus paused on the front steps. Surely he hadn't heard that correctly.
"Mister Moon!" He turned to see a boy of about ten running down the road towards him. The boy was waving with one hand, and dragging a blue wagon with a fir tree strapped precariously to it with the other. Remus descended the steps warily, one hand casually gripping the wand in his pocket. The boy came to a skidding halt in front of him, nearly overturning the wagon in the process.
"He said--he said--" the boy gasped, breathlessly.
"Slow down. What happened?"
"He said to tell you 'Happy Christmas' and I was to deliver you the tree," he pointed at the wagon, "and the dog." Remus froze. At the boy's words a great, black dog trundled out from the shadows, tongue lolling from the run, an unmistakable grin on its features.
"He did, did he?"
"He said you'd pay for it, too."
"Of course." As the boy began unlashing the tree from his wagon, Remus fished around in his pocket and peeled off a few slips of Muggle currency. The boy hooted with joy and ran off as fast as he had arrived, his wagon clattering behind him. Remus hauled the tree over his shoulder and glared in the direction of the mutt.
"Don't give me that look," he growled, "It's not funny." The dog only grinned.
~~*~~
Fairy lights twinkled on the blue-green branches of the tree, and Remus watched Sirius hang the last of the paper ornaments.
"You could have told me," he chided.
"I could have--wouldn't have been a surprise then."
"I walked all over the city looking for you."
"You should know better than that by now."
"I should."
"You worry too much."
"After last night I thought you'd gone for good."
"I thought so, too."
"And?"
"I was wrong."
"Yeah. Speaking of which, where's Buckbeak?"
"Safe. It isn't right to keep him caged up in here. I'll go back for him in a few
days."
"Let me come with you at least."
Sirius smiled and sat down at Remus' feet.
"Will it make you happy?"
"No, but it'll keep me from worrying."
"Done. So where's my present?"
"As if you deserve one."
"I don't--but you'll have gotten me one anyway."
Remus pointed at the coat hanging by the door. Sirius scrambled to his feet and began rummaging through the pockets. Remus laughed in spite of himself.
Sirius pulled out the red wrapped box and held it high in victory before sitting down again and scrabbling at the paper.
"If this is a pair of socks, Moony, I swear I'll hex your toes off."
"That walk today almost did the job for you, mate."
"Don't mope. You don't know what cold is. Once while I was--" He paused as he removed the final layer of wrapping. A small, bluish crystal ball dropped into his palm.
"What's this?"
"Just wait."
Seconds passed.
"It's not doing anything."
"Give it a moment."
"Don't tell me I need to use my inner eye."
"No."
"Because I had it removed ages ago."
"Padfoot, would you shut up for half a moment."
"Ok, ok. I'm just saying--"
A blue-green light flickered deep inside the crystal, and a quiet hiss of static broke the silence. A single chord was wrenched from a guitar, held, and then with a scream it was ground out again and again. A keyboard began to echo it, and a bass began to crawl alongside, spitting and snarling.
Sirius' face drained of color.
"Do you remember, Padfoot?"
"Moony, this isn't--"
"3rd of March..."
"This isn't--"
"1977."
"Moony, if you're joking..."
"The Rainbow Theatre."
"Merlin..." Sirius breathed, his word drowned out by the ground glass growl of a voice gone hard with excess.
“Dance to the beat of the living dead
Lose sleep, baby, stay away from bed...”
"It's really him?"
"You like it, Padfoot?"
"How did you...where did...?"
"Friend of a friend. A little Muggle technology modified. And to think you almost missed it."
"I hadn't thought of this in...gods--listen to that! You can hear every note, can't you? When I first heard that line it was like he'd pared down every true thing into a single riff."
Remus smiled. He'd spent many hours as a teenager playing "Gods! Listen to that!" with Sirius. He had never entirely figured out what he was listening for, but the look of pure joy on Sirius' otherwise dark face was sufficient to keep him nodding and pretending.
"James was so surprised you actually came with us."
"Well, exams were only three months away--I thought you'd all lost your collective minds."
"I knew you'd come though."
"No one but you could have ever persuaded me to go--let alone go by flying motorcycle."
"I still don't know how you managed to hold on with your eyes closed."
"Sticking charms. Lots and lots of sticking charms."
"It was such a great view though--like a line of pilgrims before a religious shrine. Only more leather."
"Especially on those girls that kept trying to entice you home."
"Poor, deluded little creatures," Sirius smiled shyly up at Remus, "If only they'd known."
Remus scratched his head and shrugged.
"I'm missing so much, Moony," Sirius sad quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"Azkaban. The Dementors. They never took big memories--just details. Little things. Colors. Sounds. Smells. Things you wouldn't notice right away. They were like rats. Nibbling and nibbling until the whole memory just collapsed on itself. They stole these songs line by line. Note by note. If I can't remember all of it, did it really happen?"
"It happened. I can tell you that."
"Then I won't know myself without you, Moony, will I?"
Remus felt a familiar knot form in his throat. He shrugged again and began to pick idly at one of his nails. Sirius was silent for a few minutes.
"Is it all on here?"
"I think so--they said it was complete."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm going to put the kettle on," Remus said, standing. "Do you want anything else?"
"Whatever you feel like."
Remus wasn't sure why he was retreating to the kitchen with such a feeling of relief. But he leaned against the door for a full five minutes before he even attempted to heat the kettle.
He remembered the night with a greater clarity than seemed possible after so many years. If what Sirius said was true, he wondered how much else was lost to him. Remus shivered. Best not to think about it.
The china clattered together as he loaded the tea tray. He pushed through the door and confronted silence on the other side.
"It's done?" he asked, laying the service on the table.
"Don't think so. I think there was more."
As if in answer, dark laughter layered over the dim chatter of the audience. Remus' throat tightened.
"Forgot the sugar," he muttered, and turned to the door.
Behind him, the guitar riff was loose, jangly, like the flutter of feathered wings against frosted glass. Remus froze, grasping the doorhandle, feeling trapped somehow.
Behind him, Sirius gasped.
“Gods...you remember, Moony?”
Remus stared at his shoes. What a question. The melody deepened, a heartbeat
hardened with intent. He heard Sirius rise behind him.
“C’mere, mate.”
Remus’ skin prickled at the sound of the heavy boots crossing the floor.
"C'mon, love. Give us a dance.”
Remus could almost smell the crowd of the Rainbow closing around them, pressing them together, promising a careless anonymity as he followed his best friend towards a shadowy corner just beside the stage door.
“Moony?” The word drifted across the back of his neck, and Remus nodded imperceptibly. A pale, scarred hand covered his own, pulling it from the doorhandle, twining warm fingers with his own numb ones. Unresisting, he let himself be turned to face Sirius’ crooked smile and upturned eyes. Dropping his gaze to the floor again, Remus slid an arm about Sirius’ thin waist and drew him close. In 1977, a boy in a studded leather jacket and motorcycle boots had heard the same opening shiver of chords and, gripped in the hands of fate or fancy, had slid a hand possessively around the lanky boy in the corduroys, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear:
“Kiss me, Moony.”
A lifetime later, Sirius began to echo the words that dripped like honey from the shrapnel scarred voice of the singer.
“Gimme danger, little stranger
and I’ll feel you bleed”
Slipping a hand behind Remus’ neck, Sirius’ thin body mimicked the slink and slide of the bass as he drew him back towards the open space by the tree. With awkward steps that never quite echoed the rhythm of any song, Remus let himself be guided by his friend’s will, passive, waiting, reading the moments. Sirius stared up at him through long curls, his eyes shrouded, hidden, and with a pained slowness drew Remus’ hand to rest on the sharp angle of his left hip.
Warmth. Warmth radiating through the rough denim. Remus remembered the warmth of the Rainbow that night--the crush of bodies, the lights of the stage, the boy pulling him into an embrace before the whole world. Tonight there was warmth again. Warmth enough in the space between them to cut through the lingering chill of the old house. Warmth like the last days of summer. Sirius was a furnace pressed against him. Sirius was the sun.
“There’s nothing in my dreams
Just some ugly memories
kiss me like the ocean breeze”
Remus slid his free hand against Sirius’ jaw, eliciting a smug smile from the shadowed face. Dragging his palm down neck and chest and beneath arm, he clasped Sirius firmly beneath the elbow and drew it upward, tucking the hand behind his neck. Sliding his hand carelessly down the exposed length of Sirius’ torso towards his hip, he smiled and remembered the low growl this had sparked so many years ago. With this single gesture they were joined again, inseperable, wrapped around each other like vines, flowing into each other like the river outside.
As the guitar wailed wide open, the dark-haired man in a faded t-shirt and bare feet grinned broadly, as though waking from a long sleep. Staring up with glittering eyes at the thin man in the tattered suit, he murmured:
“Kiss me, Moony.”
Remus bent his head and pressed his forehead against Sirius', reveling at each short, sharp breath that tickled the skin on his cheeks.
“Kiss me,” Sirius whispered again. Remus’ smile widened, and with a quick shift, a sudden twist, an insistant slip, the kiss was sealed. It was straightforward, illuminating, and when Remus pulled back to catch his breath, Sirius slumped forward and pressed his forehead against Remus' chest.
“There’s nothing left alive
But some dark and glassy eyes
Raise my fears one more time.”
Burying his face in Sirius' tangled hair, Remus inhaled the memory of a sea of the faithful pressed tight together, chanting the words of a god, faces bathed in the divine light of the stage. He remembered the luminous look on Peter’s face as he and James pressed closer to the stage, fists pumping in the air. He remembered the rabid glitter in Sirius' eyes as he leaned in to whisper: "I love you so much, Moony. Don't tell."
”Come on little danger, die a little later
swear you're gonna feel my hell”
“Moony?” Sirius’ voice was low, muffled against Remus' shirt.
“Yeah, Padfoot?” he mumbled into Sirius' hair.
“I'm sorry I make you worry,” Sirius muttered finally.
"I signed on for it, didn't I? Part of the relationship contract. Subsection B or something," Remus laughed.
"I mean it, though."
"I know."
"I don't want you to leave me. Not after all that time," he added plaintively. Remus smiled, and tightened his grip on Sirius’ waist.
“How many times do I have to swear to you that I'm not going anywhere?”
“Just once more.”
"Just once? You're certain?"
"Just once."
“All right. Then I swear..." Remus thought for a moment, then kissing him on the top of his head, added, "I swear by the first time you ever asked me to dance, that I will never, ever leave you."
Remus drew back, and spun Sirius around twice before pulling him back in tightly again.
"You believe me?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And will you swear to stop giving me reasons to wander around in the cold looking for you?"
"No."
"No?"
"No," Sirius grinned up at him, and pulled him down into a spontaneous dip, "You're cute when you're rosy-cheeked and shivering."
"Shut up and dance, Padfoot."
“Can you feel it?
I wanna feel it…”
“Moony?”
“Yeah?”
"Happy Christmas.
"Happy Christmas, Padfoot."
~~*~~
As the music continued to wind around them, as they remembered themselves to each other, as they danced; outside, in defiance of all prediction and probability, the first snow of winter began to fall.
Author/Artist: nurturing_roads
Written for: oddsbobs
Rating: PG-13 (for a wee bit of language)
Summary and/or Prompt: First Christmas after PoA, dancing by the tree, a Christmas miracle
Any other random notes, warnings, etc.:
Happy Christmas!
Strangers When We Meet
A distant carillion woke Remus from a dream of flying.
"Morning," he murmured, stretching languidly and rolling over to stare at the cot beside the bed.
"Happy Christ--" The words died in his throat.
The cot was empty. For a moment, Remus could only lie blinking at the pile of green blankets tossed on the floor beside it.
"Not again," he growled, throwing off his own blankets and padding barefoot out into the hall.
Two minutes later, he returned, his expression thunderous, and began gathering up the bedding.
Sirius was gone.
~~*~~
"Haven't heard a thing, Lupin."
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
"Nah--I've seen you angry. 'S more than my life's worth to be on your bad side."
"All right. But if you hear anything--"
"I'll keep my nose to the ground and my hand to the floo powder."
"Thanks."
"Not at all. He'll be back around. He always shows up in the end, doesn't he?"
"I know. That's not what worries me."
"Now don't think like that. He's a tough bird to kill, eh?"
"You're right."
"Course I am. Happy Christmas, Lupin."
"Happy Christmas."
As the flames died, Remus crossed the last name off his list and stared bleakly at the noon day sky through the window.
Six months out of Azkaban and this was the third time Sirius had scarpered without a word. Despite all of Dumbledore's reassuring letters, Remus was starting to take it personally. He'd thought this time was different: Sirius had been ensconced in Remus' flat in Denmark for nearly four weeks already. If nothing else, it was a far cry from the extended weekend he'd barely managed when Remus was spending the summer in Germany.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Remus muttered to himself, and grabbed his traveling cloak from the peg on the wall.
~~*~~
The streets were cold and almost entirely devoid of life. Anyone sensible was snug beside a fire, unwrapping gifts and sharing the cup of human kindness with their nearest and dearest.
Remus pulled his frayed collar up higher around his ears and kept walking. He should have read the signs. He should have known better.
The previous night, bone tired from a week in the wild, still nauseous from the trip from Romania, Remus had dragged himself into the sitting room, grateful for the fire roaring in the grate and the tea service waiting on the table. He had been even more grateful for the sight of Sirius' shaggy head leaned back against the top of the wing chair and the sound of his light snoring. Remus had reached out and ruffled Sirius' hair. Sirius, startled, had leapt to his feet and whirled around, wand drawn. Remus, smiling, had held up his hands in surrender.
"You got me."
"You're lucky. What time is it?"
"After midnight."
"You'd said ten at the latest."
"The day went south after we talked." He had slumped in one of the wing chairs and begun pouring himself a cup. Sirius had nodded, pocketing his wand, and resumed his own seat.
Shrugging off his sweater, Remus had felt the sudden chill.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” he'd asked, leaning towards the fire.
“Had the window open all day.”
“What? It’s brutal out there!”
“Buckbeak likes the fresh air.”
“Maybe, but *you’ll* catch your death,” Remus had chided, wrapping his hands around the tea cup.
“Then it’ll be Happy fucking Christmas, Mr. Minister, won’t it?” Sirius had sneered.
“Excuse me?”
“Shrink me down, wrap me up, and floo me to his missus to put under their tree. “Yours Graciously, Albus Purcival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”
“Sirius, stop being melodramatic.”
"Why? I'm bored. I've been bored for five straight days. Nothing to do but read your books or stare out your windows or drink myself into a semi-stupor. It's dull as ditchwater here when you go off on one of your little adventures."
"Believe me, I could do without them. This last one especially." He had raised his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped around his midsection.
"Fuck," Sirius had hissed, flinching. "Why do you keep going back?"
"You know I don't have any choice."
"Yeah, yeah. The old man crooks his finger and his lapdog comes running."
"I already told him that I'm not going anywhere tomorrow. Not unless it's--"
"Life-threatening. Yeah. You said."
"Please, Padfoot, don't let's argue. I'm here now, aren't I?"
"So you are. Should I send him a card, then? 'Dearest Dumbledore, Thanks for letting me have my Moony back for a whole bloody day. If he wasn't so fagged from having to trot all over the bloody continent doing your bidding, we might have had a roaring good time. Ever yours, etc?'"
“Padfoot, I'm fine. And we will have a good time. Just give me an hour to warm up properly."
"You know, you wouldn't be nearly this tired if I could travel with you. If the old man didn't have me chained here as though I was still twelve and hadn't been taking care of myself all this time."
"Lay off, will you? 'Tis the season to--”
“'Tis the season to realize that when it comes down to brass tacks there’s no difference between yesterday and tomorrow anymore."
"Oh gods," Remus muttered. Sirius ignored him.
"'Tis the season to admit that it’s just one interminable, dreary expanse of confinement for us all while we wait for the other shoe to fall. Moony, I beg you, in the name of this most joyous of seasons, pass me the tea but hold the platitudes.”
Remus had let the silence fall around them then and had stared placidly at the fire, counting backwards from ten.
“Any sign of snow?”
“No, just rain, rain, rain until we all wash away.”
~~*~~
Remus blew on his hands and stared up at the grey expanse of sky. No unexpected Buckbeak-shaped shadows. Why would there be, though? It might have been hours since Sirius took off. Given sufficient tailwind, he could easily be crossing the Russian border.
"I should let them have you," Remus muttered bitterly. He kicked a stone on the riverbank, sending it splashing beneath the grey water. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, and bowing his head against a wind that had sprung up, he walked a little faster.
He should have realized. He should have guessed that their nightly arguement had taken on new dimensions as soon as he had mentioned the snow.
He had finally begun to get feeling back in his toes again when the benign question escaped his lips: “I wonder if we’ll have snow for Christmas?" Stupid.
“Guaranteed rain,” Sirius had grimaced, sinking lower in his seat. Remus had thought that the end, until Sirius turned, the light suddenly returning to his eyes.
"I’ll bet Hogwarts is bloody covered in the stuff, though,” he had grinned. Remus had steeled himself for the inevitable monologue.
“Let’s take a trip, eh? Buckbeak can carry two, no problem. You look like you’ve lost at least a stone since last spring anyway--we'll have to remedy that.”
“Sirius, stop…”
“I’m not saying we go anywhere near the school grounds. We could camp out--put down stakes just north of Hogsmeade. Nothing fancy--just the comforts of home. You’re still good at disillusioning aren’t you? They made you learn that to be an Auror, right? Keeping one small tent shut of prying eyes wouldn't be hard for you, would it?”
“Sirius, I don't…”
“Or fuck the magic--pull up to one of the Muggle cities and stay there for a fortnight. Go see some shows. Stay out until dawn. Live like natives. Harry could help--they’ve got him locked up there for the tournament, but he’d sneak out to see us. I know he would. It’d be bloody brilliant--almost like old times.”
“Padfoot, you *know* we-“
With a sudden, whiplike movement, Sirius had flung the teapcup across the room. Remus had bit his tongue as the delicate blue china had shattered against the far wall. Gripping the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled vice, Sirius had spoken with a voice like Arctic winter.
“Yes, I *know*. Of course, I *know*. How could I bloody well NOT *know* with Dumbledore sending owls every other day to make sure I’m still here to read them? 'My Dear Boy, I hope you're bearing up under the strain. It's only for a bit longer.' 'My Dear Boy, Do be sure to tell Remus to contact me when he gets back.' 'My Dear Boy, have you hung yourself yet?'"
"Don't be maudlin."
"It's the truth, isn't it?"
"We've been through this, Padfoot. He wants to protect you.”
"I can take care of myself. And you, too, if it comes to it." He had risen from his chair then and had begun pacing the floor before the window. "Merlin, I miss the snow. All this rain--it’s just as grey as Azkaban out there. Why can’t we go somewhere? Anywhere! He'd never know."
“I'm not good at lying, Padfoot--you know that."
"Then don't say a word--just come with me."
"What's gotten into you?"
“Am I even here, Moony? Am I even real? I feel like a ghost, like a straw man, like I could just blow away with one fair gust of wind.”
“I’m here, you're here. And it’ll only be a little longer before Dumbledore finds a new place for the Order, and then Harry and the rest of the Order will be with us, too.”
“Really? You mean tucked away? Hidden away? Locked away? Forgotten? I'm no better here than in any other prison. Hell, it's not even a nicer set of drapes.” Sirius had yanked one of the tatty taupe curtains, and they had watched it fall to the floor in a heap. “Why did I agree to stay?”
“You’d rather be on the run?”
“Maybe. I know I’d rather be outside. Someplace where I could feel awake again. Someplace where it's bloody snowing!" He had screamed the last sentence through the glass at the unhearing sky.
Remus had approached him slowly then and laid a hand on a shoulder quivering with rage.
“It’s just for a little longer.”
“How much longer, Remus? Has he said? Does he know? Or is it just, ‘Hang on, Sirius, my lad, and once it’s all sorted we’ll let you out again. Until then, you be a good, good dog, eh? You run and hide where we tell you to run and hide?”
“Sirius, it can’t be helped.”
“Oh, of course not. Such is life and all that," Sirius had shrugged his hand off, "Fat lot you care--you can leave whenever you want.”
"I don't *want* to leave at all. And I always come back."
"Yeah, sure. You always come back until one day--" Sirius had poked him sharply in the ribs, causing a bolt of white-hot pain to explode in Remus' side.
"Until one day, you don't." His face steely, Sirius had turned to stare out the western window, and silence had blanketed the room.
Remus had left him there, then, and gone to the bedroom to change his bandages and calm the anger boiling up inside him. He intended to wait up, but he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. If Sirius came to sleep at all, Remus didn't hear him.
~~*~~
Remus tucked himself into the doorway of a cafe and tried to think. It was like playing hide-and-seek.
"Where would you go," he asked the air.
He laughed bitterly as he realized that he had absolutely no idea how to answer the question. It was Sirius. Sirius would go anywhere. Anywhere snowy at least. Which narrowed the field to about half of Europe and most of North Asia.
"He's finally gotten angry enough. He's not coming back," a niggling voice hissed in the back of his mind.
Remus cursed quietly, wrapped his arms around his chest and turned back towards the flat.
~~*~~
The afternoon light waned and slid into evening. The first stars unveiled themselves, and the moon crept over the horizon. In the streets below, crowds of people were spilling out of houses to bring little lights to the river. Remus sat in the darkened flat, staring blindly into the fire, running the fingers of his right hand along the edge of a small red box.
"Bloody Hell," he muttered viciously, and tucking the box into his pocket, he stormed out the door. Out in the street, the people swarmed around him, bright autumn leaves on the wind, calling to each other, carrying their little candle boats. A woman in a brilliant blue cloak stumbled into him, caught him by the shoulders, hugged him like an old friend, and pressed a candle boat into his empty hand before being whisked back into the crush of strangers. Stunned, Remus stumbled forward to the edge of the river. On either side of him, people were sending their paper boats to the growing flotilla of light that was drifting downstream.
Slowly, Remus pulled the box from his pocket and glanced from it's bright red wrapping to the deep black depths. What was the point, after all? He'd been trying for so long to gather Sirius back, and he could see no progress at all. What did he really expect this little box to do?
Crouching down, he was surrounded by the whispering of prayers and devotions, a sussurance of desire that felt tangible in the light of a thousand sacrificial flames. A man in green crouching beside him held out his own candle to Remus.
"A little light, mate?" Remus nodded, and the man carefully lit Remus' own candle.
"Happy Christmas," the man added, slipping his candle into the river and retreating down the bank to a crush of people singing.
Remus stared at the flame in front of him. "A little light." He remembered the charm his mother cast on the candles at night when his father was away:
"A little light, a simple spark/To lead us home, from deepest dark."
Leaning forward, Remus placed the boat carefully, and watched it hurry to catch up with its brothers.
"Come back to me," he murmured, "Please come back to me." The flame flickered in a passing breeze, but did not go out.
He looked down at the package in his hand.
"Drown it," a little voice hissed. "No other use for it." Sighing, he shoved it back into his pocket and rose to his feet. He had hope. It wasn't much, in the scheme of things, but it was his. Turning on his heel, he pressed back into the crowd, forcing his way back to the flat. He'd owl Dumbledore. Dumbledore would know what to do next.
"Oy! Mister Moon!" Remus paused on the front steps. Surely he hadn't heard that correctly.
"Mister Moon!" He turned to see a boy of about ten running down the road towards him. The boy was waving with one hand, and dragging a blue wagon with a fir tree strapped precariously to it with the other. Remus descended the steps warily, one hand casually gripping the wand in his pocket. The boy came to a skidding halt in front of him, nearly overturning the wagon in the process.
"He said--he said--" the boy gasped, breathlessly.
"Slow down. What happened?"
"He said to tell you 'Happy Christmas' and I was to deliver you the tree," he pointed at the wagon, "and the dog." Remus froze. At the boy's words a great, black dog trundled out from the shadows, tongue lolling from the run, an unmistakable grin on its features.
"He did, did he?"
"He said you'd pay for it, too."
"Of course." As the boy began unlashing the tree from his wagon, Remus fished around in his pocket and peeled off a few slips of Muggle currency. The boy hooted with joy and ran off as fast as he had arrived, his wagon clattering behind him. Remus hauled the tree over his shoulder and glared in the direction of the mutt.
"Don't give me that look," he growled, "It's not funny." The dog only grinned.
~~*~~
Fairy lights twinkled on the blue-green branches of the tree, and Remus watched Sirius hang the last of the paper ornaments.
"You could have told me," he chided.
"I could have--wouldn't have been a surprise then."
"I walked all over the city looking for you."
"You should know better than that by now."
"I should."
"You worry too much."
"After last night I thought you'd gone for good."
"I thought so, too."
"And?"
"I was wrong."
"Yeah. Speaking of which, where's Buckbeak?"
"Safe. It isn't right to keep him caged up in here. I'll go back for him in a few
days."
"Let me come with you at least."
Sirius smiled and sat down at Remus' feet.
"Will it make you happy?"
"No, but it'll keep me from worrying."
"Done. So where's my present?"
"As if you deserve one."
"I don't--but you'll have gotten me one anyway."
Remus pointed at the coat hanging by the door. Sirius scrambled to his feet and began rummaging through the pockets. Remus laughed in spite of himself.
Sirius pulled out the red wrapped box and held it high in victory before sitting down again and scrabbling at the paper.
"If this is a pair of socks, Moony, I swear I'll hex your toes off."
"That walk today almost did the job for you, mate."
"Don't mope. You don't know what cold is. Once while I was--" He paused as he removed the final layer of wrapping. A small, bluish crystal ball dropped into his palm.
"What's this?"
"Just wait."
Seconds passed.
"It's not doing anything."
"Give it a moment."
"Don't tell me I need to use my inner eye."
"No."
"Because I had it removed ages ago."
"Padfoot, would you shut up for half a moment."
"Ok, ok. I'm just saying--"
A blue-green light flickered deep inside the crystal, and a quiet hiss of static broke the silence. A single chord was wrenched from a guitar, held, and then with a scream it was ground out again and again. A keyboard began to echo it, and a bass began to crawl alongside, spitting and snarling.
Sirius' face drained of color.
"Do you remember, Padfoot?"
"Moony, this isn't--"
"3rd of March..."
"This isn't--"
"1977."
"Moony, if you're joking..."
"The Rainbow Theatre."
"Merlin..." Sirius breathed, his word drowned out by the ground glass growl of a voice gone hard with excess.
“Dance to the beat of the living dead
Lose sleep, baby, stay away from bed...”
"It's really him?"
"You like it, Padfoot?"
"How did you...where did...?"
"Friend of a friend. A little Muggle technology modified. And to think you almost missed it."
"I hadn't thought of this in...gods--listen to that! You can hear every note, can't you? When I first heard that line it was like he'd pared down every true thing into a single riff."
Remus smiled. He'd spent many hours as a teenager playing "Gods! Listen to that!" with Sirius. He had never entirely figured out what he was listening for, but the look of pure joy on Sirius' otherwise dark face was sufficient to keep him nodding and pretending.
"James was so surprised you actually came with us."
"Well, exams were only three months away--I thought you'd all lost your collective minds."
"I knew you'd come though."
"No one but you could have ever persuaded me to go--let alone go by flying motorcycle."
"I still don't know how you managed to hold on with your eyes closed."
"Sticking charms. Lots and lots of sticking charms."
"It was such a great view though--like a line of pilgrims before a religious shrine. Only more leather."
"Especially on those girls that kept trying to entice you home."
"Poor, deluded little creatures," Sirius smiled shyly up at Remus, "If only they'd known."
Remus scratched his head and shrugged.
"I'm missing so much, Moony," Sirius sad quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"Azkaban. The Dementors. They never took big memories--just details. Little things. Colors. Sounds. Smells. Things you wouldn't notice right away. They were like rats. Nibbling and nibbling until the whole memory just collapsed on itself. They stole these songs line by line. Note by note. If I can't remember all of it, did it really happen?"
"It happened. I can tell you that."
"Then I won't know myself without you, Moony, will I?"
Remus felt a familiar knot form in his throat. He shrugged again and began to pick idly at one of his nails. Sirius was silent for a few minutes.
"Is it all on here?"
"I think so--they said it was complete."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm going to put the kettle on," Remus said, standing. "Do you want anything else?"
"Whatever you feel like."
Remus wasn't sure why he was retreating to the kitchen with such a feeling of relief. But he leaned against the door for a full five minutes before he even attempted to heat the kettle.
He remembered the night with a greater clarity than seemed possible after so many years. If what Sirius said was true, he wondered how much else was lost to him. Remus shivered. Best not to think about it.
The china clattered together as he loaded the tea tray. He pushed through the door and confronted silence on the other side.
"It's done?" he asked, laying the service on the table.
"Don't think so. I think there was more."
As if in answer, dark laughter layered over the dim chatter of the audience. Remus' throat tightened.
"Forgot the sugar," he muttered, and turned to the door.
Behind him, the guitar riff was loose, jangly, like the flutter of feathered wings against frosted glass. Remus froze, grasping the doorhandle, feeling trapped somehow.
Behind him, Sirius gasped.
“Gods...you remember, Moony?”
Remus stared at his shoes. What a question. The melody deepened, a heartbeat
hardened with intent. He heard Sirius rise behind him.
“C’mere, mate.”
Remus’ skin prickled at the sound of the heavy boots crossing the floor.
"C'mon, love. Give us a dance.”
Remus could almost smell the crowd of the Rainbow closing around them, pressing them together, promising a careless anonymity as he followed his best friend towards a shadowy corner just beside the stage door.
“Moony?” The word drifted across the back of his neck, and Remus nodded imperceptibly. A pale, scarred hand covered his own, pulling it from the doorhandle, twining warm fingers with his own numb ones. Unresisting, he let himself be turned to face Sirius’ crooked smile and upturned eyes. Dropping his gaze to the floor again, Remus slid an arm about Sirius’ thin waist and drew him close. In 1977, a boy in a studded leather jacket and motorcycle boots had heard the same opening shiver of chords and, gripped in the hands of fate or fancy, had slid a hand possessively around the lanky boy in the corduroys, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear:
“Kiss me, Moony.”
A lifetime later, Sirius began to echo the words that dripped like honey from the shrapnel scarred voice of the singer.
“Gimme danger, little stranger
and I’ll feel you bleed”
Slipping a hand behind Remus’ neck, Sirius’ thin body mimicked the slink and slide of the bass as he drew him back towards the open space by the tree. With awkward steps that never quite echoed the rhythm of any song, Remus let himself be guided by his friend’s will, passive, waiting, reading the moments. Sirius stared up at him through long curls, his eyes shrouded, hidden, and with a pained slowness drew Remus’ hand to rest on the sharp angle of his left hip.
Warmth. Warmth radiating through the rough denim. Remus remembered the warmth of the Rainbow that night--the crush of bodies, the lights of the stage, the boy pulling him into an embrace before the whole world. Tonight there was warmth again. Warmth enough in the space between them to cut through the lingering chill of the old house. Warmth like the last days of summer. Sirius was a furnace pressed against him. Sirius was the sun.
“There’s nothing in my dreams
Just some ugly memories
kiss me like the ocean breeze”
Remus slid his free hand against Sirius’ jaw, eliciting a smug smile from the shadowed face. Dragging his palm down neck and chest and beneath arm, he clasped Sirius firmly beneath the elbow and drew it upward, tucking the hand behind his neck. Sliding his hand carelessly down the exposed length of Sirius’ torso towards his hip, he smiled and remembered the low growl this had sparked so many years ago. With this single gesture they were joined again, inseperable, wrapped around each other like vines, flowing into each other like the river outside.
As the guitar wailed wide open, the dark-haired man in a faded t-shirt and bare feet grinned broadly, as though waking from a long sleep. Staring up with glittering eyes at the thin man in the tattered suit, he murmured:
“Kiss me, Moony.”
Remus bent his head and pressed his forehead against Sirius', reveling at each short, sharp breath that tickled the skin on his cheeks.
“Kiss me,” Sirius whispered again. Remus’ smile widened, and with a quick shift, a sudden twist, an insistant slip, the kiss was sealed. It was straightforward, illuminating, and when Remus pulled back to catch his breath, Sirius slumped forward and pressed his forehead against Remus' chest.
“There’s nothing left alive
But some dark and glassy eyes
Raise my fears one more time.”
Burying his face in Sirius' tangled hair, Remus inhaled the memory of a sea of the faithful pressed tight together, chanting the words of a god, faces bathed in the divine light of the stage. He remembered the luminous look on Peter’s face as he and James pressed closer to the stage, fists pumping in the air. He remembered the rabid glitter in Sirius' eyes as he leaned in to whisper: "I love you so much, Moony. Don't tell."
”Come on little danger, die a little later
swear you're gonna feel my hell”
“Moony?” Sirius’ voice was low, muffled against Remus' shirt.
“Yeah, Padfoot?” he mumbled into Sirius' hair.
“I'm sorry I make you worry,” Sirius muttered finally.
"I signed on for it, didn't I? Part of the relationship contract. Subsection B or something," Remus laughed.
"I mean it, though."
"I know."
"I don't want you to leave me. Not after all that time," he added plaintively. Remus smiled, and tightened his grip on Sirius’ waist.
“How many times do I have to swear to you that I'm not going anywhere?”
“Just once more.”
"Just once? You're certain?"
"Just once."
“All right. Then I swear..." Remus thought for a moment, then kissing him on the top of his head, added, "I swear by the first time you ever asked me to dance, that I will never, ever leave you."
Remus drew back, and spun Sirius around twice before pulling him back in tightly again.
"You believe me?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And will you swear to stop giving me reasons to wander around in the cold looking for you?"
"No."
"No?"
"No," Sirius grinned up at him, and pulled him down into a spontaneous dip, "You're cute when you're rosy-cheeked and shivering."
"Shut up and dance, Padfoot."
“Can you feel it?
I wanna feel it…”
“Moony?”
“Yeah?”
"Happy Christmas.
"Happy Christmas, Padfoot."
~~*~~
As the music continued to wind around them, as they remembered themselves to each other, as they danced; outside, in defiance of all prediction and probability, the first snow of winter began to fall.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-29 04:18 pm (UTC)I'll be adding this to my mems. Thanks so much for this.
You don't have any more fic stashed away somewhere, do you?
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-02 01:15 am (UTC)If you ever want another set of eyes for a particular fic, just drop me a comment in my journal and I'll give you my email addy. I don't write fic myself, but I do a lot of editing and writing at work and would be happy to offer what advice I could. :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-03 01:43 pm (UTC)... it helps to get a team of really good betas whose jugement you trust to boost your confidence: like getting a look in a friendly mirror before heading out. Hope to read more from you!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-29 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-30 04:54 am (UTC)Love the interwoven flashback of their first dance/kiss. "I love you so much, Moony. Don't tell." Wonderful line, and so teenagerish.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-30 05:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-30 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:50 pm (UTC)"It’s getting time - it’s getting close (go to your seats)
a part in the night where’s the love of my life?
kiss me, ‘thank you for this’
kiss me ‘I won’t be myself without you’
kiss me, It’s time, to reach you the way you reach me
it’s time." --*We Are the Next Us*, Gord Downie
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-30 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-03 03:01 pm (UTC)"'Tis the season to admit that it’s just one interminable, dreary expanse of confinement for us all while we wait for the other shoe to fall. Moony, I beg you, in the name of this most joyous of seasons, pass me the tea but hold the platitudes.”
Oddly enough, that summed up my holiday season. If you replace "tea" with "liquor" anyway. Also, less kissing.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-12 05:00 am (UTC)This was absolutely perfect. I didn't know what to expect with the prompts--I was really just throwing things out there--but you somehow read my mind and gave me exactly what I needed.
Oh the poor Sirius and his frustration... I think you perfectly captured him after Azkaban. So restless and searching frantically for anything to help him hope! And Remus's voice is absolutely wonderful throughout. There are so many ways people depict their reunion as a couple, but I think this is perhaps the best I've read. It fits them, it's bittersweet but so loving, and so very, very right. And the SNOW!!! (I was wondering how the miracle would work in)
Thank you so much for this lovely fic!
(I'm also blown away that this is your first fanfic posted... it's so smoothly written! You must post more fics)
::adds to memories::
no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 12:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-24 11:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-26 06:38 pm (UTC)Thank you!